


And It Gets Under My Skin

by 3dgrace (fixwithgold)



Category: Three Days Grace (Band)
Genre: Blood, Drugs, First Aid, Gen, One-X era, Whump, head wounds bleed a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixwithgold/pseuds/3dgrace
Summary: Brad’s good at first aid.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	And It Gets Under My Skin

Brad was tempted to ignore the crash and the muted swearing, hoping one of the others would go check. But when he didn’t hear any footsteps, the realization that Barry and Neil were out getting snacks to restock the fridge hit him hard enough to push him to his feet and propel him over to the bathroom. 

The door was unlocked, so he pushed it open, mentally crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t see anything he’d regret seeing. 

Fuck, that was a lot of blood. 

Adam was standing in front of the red-splashed sink, looking disoriented and trying futilely to cover the gash on his forehead and stop the blood from dripping down into his eyes. His face and hair were soaking wet, too, making the blood dilute and spread even further despite the effort to stop it. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Brad asked. Adam looked at him through the bathroom mirror, 

“You ever knock?” he asked, his voice tinged with something sharp and mocking that sent a spike of anger through Brad. For a moment, he wanted to snap back that he was making sure Adam didn’t kill himself, so fucking excuse him for not knocking, but instead he bit back the response until the impulse faded. 

“Usually. What happened?” he replied instead. He pulled a wad of tissues out of a box on the counter and held them up to Adam’s face, yanking his hand away from the wound and jamming the material under it so the blood would be absorbed when Adam pulled back and put pressure back on the gash. Adam scowled at the forced action and took a step backwards, away from Brad, but he left the tissues where they were. Watered-down blood ran down his arm and onto his sleeve. 

“I was washing my face and forgot the faucet was there when I stood back up, alright?” 

Brad’s eyes scanned over Adam’s face. Between the irritation at Brad’s presence and the pinpoint pupils—

“You’re high.” 

“No shit.” 

Brad said nothing, just walked toward Adam to make him move back further, crouched down to open the cabinet under the sink, and fumbled around for the first aid kit he knew was there. 

Adam looked like he was about to refuse to let Brad tend to the wound, but something in Brad’s eyes must have convinced him it would be better to just accept the help. He set his jaw and rolled his eyes, but sat down on the edge of the shower-bath and allowed Brad to add more tissues to the already soaked clump. 

While the tissues continued to stem the bleeding, Brad turned the sink on to wash away the blood in the basin before it could dry. He found a bottle of sterile saline spray in the kit and tested the nozzle by spraying a few bursts into the sink, then sat down on the closed toilet so he could get a better angle for tending to the gash. 

When the bleeding had mostly stopped, Brad tossed the bloody rags into the trash and had Adam sweep back his wet hair so he could sterilize the wound and cover it with a dressing and a bandage to keep pressure on it. 

The wordless, mechanical action seemed to soothe some of the tense anger Brad had seen when he walked in. Adam’s posture slowly relaxed into something more natural and casual. Still wary, but not as hostile. 

“It looks worse than it is,” Adam finally said. 

“It’s worse than it feels,” Brad replied, and they lapsed into silence again. Brad could practically see Adam processing that statement, turning it over in his mind and connecting the bloody mess to the broken skin to the painkillers. He tore open the package for an antibacterial wipe and used the cloth to wipe away the bloodstains on Adam’s face, frowning at how poorly the blue eyes were tracking his movements. 

Finally, the mess was cleaned up. Brad waited for Adam to meet his gaze. 

“You need to stop this,” he said softly. Adam blinked.

“It was an accident, it’s not like I meant to—“ 

“No. The drugs, Adam. I can tell it’s getting worse, we all can. I hate seeing you like this, man.” He sighed. “It has to be your decision.” 

Brad stood up and walked out, leaving Adam to think it over with the open first aid kid still sitting on the floor in front of him.


End file.
